Page 65 of Irreplaceable

Uccellina,

I leave you in good hands. This is my assistant, Nico. I look forward to seeing you for dinner.

Con amore,

Enzo

When I finished,Nico said, “There’s a car waiting outside to take you to the restaurant, where Lorenzo will meet you.”

“This all seems a bit elaborate.”

Nico was tall and thin, dressed in designer clothes, and his smile was warm. “I take it you don’t have experience with the paparazzi?”

I shook my head. “Not personally, no.”

“They can be intense. Lorenzo is only trying to protect you.” Protect me or keep me hidden?

Stop being ridiculous.

I nodded, appreciating the effort they’d put into arranging this dinner. And I had to admit, I was a little excited by the surprise. The adventure. I hadn’t done anything like this in months.

I glanced down at my dress. “Should I change?”

Nico shook his head. “You look great. Shall we?” He gestured toward the door.

I followed him down the stairs to where a town car was waiting. The driver opened the back door for me, while Nico joined him in the front. Hm. Okay.

I texted Juliana and ate one of the snacks I always kept in my purse during the drive. But I couldn’t figure out where we were headed for the life of me. Finally, we pulled up in front of what looked like a warehouse. But it was LA, so you never knew what you’d discover inside.

The driver opened my door, and Nico escorted me inside the building and through a commercial kitchen. My senses were hit with so many delicious aromas at once—butter, garlic, bread. Oh god, I wanted some bread. Preferably garlic bread, dipped in olive oil. Or maybe slathered in butter.

“Almost there,” Nico said over his shoulder.

No one paid us any attention, but I wanted to ask them questions. I wanted to taste the food because it smelled freaking amazing.

I followed him through the kitchen to a door and then behind a velvet curtain. There, I found Enzo waiting for me at a table set for two. He stood and smiled.

“Uccellina.” He kissed me on both cheeks. “Grazie, Nico.”

Nico dipped his head and then withdrew, leaving Enzo and me alone. I was finally able to take in our surroundings. The room was dark, the walls paneled in a sumptuous, deep blue velvet. A chandelier glittered over the table, and the noise of the restaurant seemed far away. Candles glowed from atop the table, a bouquet of rich roses and eucalyptus inviting me to sit down.

“Wow. This is…unexpected. Where are we?” I asked.

“An authentic Italian experience,” he said, pulling out the chair for me. “Or as close as we can get in LA.”

“Not going to lie,” I said, taking a seat. “I’m kind of feeling like I’m in a mafia romance right now.”

He chuckled and went over to the other chair, dragging it closer to mine before sitting down. Well, okay then.

“You and the mafia.” He shook his head.

“Well, can you blame me? You were always so secretive in Bali. Had a huge house. Italian…”

He shook his head. “You have a very vivid imagination, uccellina.”

“You have no idea,” I said, my mind racing into overdrive as I contemplated all the ways this could play out. All the fun we could have. Me straddling him, riding my way to orgasm. Or perhaps on my knees, his cock between my lips. Or—better still—my body splayed out on the table for him to devour.

“Mm.” His lips were at my ear, our arms brushing. “Tell me.”

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